


Slippy little lips will split me

by iriswesttt



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8010379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iriswesttt/pseuds/iriswesttt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kissing prompt</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Electric flutter

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from Katherine Kiss Me by Franz Ferdinand

Barry’s teeth drag on her bottom lip, dawdling, pulling, and then he proceeds to suck on her upper lip before sinking down by her side, on his belly, drawing in the air deeply and Iris smiles at it; there was something particularly satisfying on leaving the Flash out of breath.

Only having their arms slightly touching is not very satisfying though, so Iris reaches for him, swinging half over his bare back, one of her legs making enough space to fit between his. She places a kiss on the nape of his neck, and another one between his shoulder blades, enjoying the way that warrants a tremble out of him, not unlike the way he vibrates sometimes when their bodies meet, but this one is involuntary and those are somehow more fun.

She likes that she can make him lose control.

Then there’s a lazy groan coming out of him and it’s a pretty innocent sound considering all the pornographic noise their bodies were producing not long ago, it’s more alluring though, especially when combined with his beating heart, which resonates into her body, though not quite matching her own heart, through his back.

“I take that means you’ve enjoyed it,” Iris teases.

Barry somehow manages to rearrange them so when Iris notices she’s already back laying on her back with him hovering over her and he kisses right underneath her jawline, by her right ear, sloppy and wet before telling her;

“I have no words.”

“Well, would you look at that?” Iris asks; “I left Mr. Romantic Speeches speechless.”

Barry laughs, and the sound of it is always crispier when they are naked and tangled together and that too vibrates through him and into her, and then he slips from above her, so he’s on his side and Iris moves to mirror him as Barry brushes her hair behind her ear, moving the strands of it sticking to her sweaty collarbone out of the way so he can place a little kiss there.

“You’re impossible,” he tells her, and his eyes are so truthful, like he means it with all his being, and Iris feels all of her blood rushing to her face at that, so she buries her nose into his chest, hoping to hide her blush, and answering it with a little jab;

“That’s ironic coming from you, you know, quite literally _the impossible_.”

“Well,” he says, like he’s really pondering it; “without you I wouldn’t be, so I feel like the title should officially belong to you.”

“Look who’s got his words back,” she teases, because Barry is all too serious about it. And then he smiles, open and honest and there’s something electric fluttering on her lungs at the sight of it, so she smiles back, moving so she can straddle his hips between her thighs and she tells him;

“I hope you can get your strength back too because I wanna go again.”

And his eyes gleam naughtily at her as his fingers dig into her bun and Iris finds there’s quite a lot of benefits on having a boyfriend with superspeed.


	2. Perfect path

Iris likes his neck. She always did.

The first time she noticed it they were in 7th grade and Barry threw his head back in annoyance at some assignment they were given and with a flash of insanity Iris was struck by the fact that she wanted to press her lips to his neck and lick it.

Now she knows perfectly well that was teenager hormones and not insanity. Hormones, and something else; something very much like a mixture of desire and infatuation. And admiration to the fact that he had freckles all over it, already drawing a perfect path for her lips.

It’s generally a good neck.

She follows the path now, if her marks on it won’t last then at least she can look at him later in the day, when they would be surrounded by people, and know exactly where her lips had been, like so many times before.

It took Barry a few weeks to first notice what exactly she was doing. _Do you have a routine down or something?_ he asked her and Iris merely laughed at it. Then one day they were brushing their teeth before bed, side by side in front of the sink, and Iris traced her path with the fingers of her free hand and Barry stopped suddenly, and with a mouth full of toothpaste he mumbled; _you’re tracing my moles._

“Barry,” she calls now, since the kisses are apparently not enough to actually wake him up, only getting a heavy sigh out of him. And he mumbles something indecipherable at hearing her calling his name, his lips half open, invitingly.

That is, they would be inviting if one would disregard the morning breath that even superheros would get. Unfortunately. So she instructs him;

“Go brush your teeth and come back to bed.”

And then all there’s left is a telling yellow lighting and Iris laughs - that boy was always so easy - breathing into his pillow, and it smells just like his neck, like his shampoo and his aftershave, like happiness and home.


	3. Her skin

Barry presses his lips on the insides of her left thigh and then again, a little higher, then he changes legs, sucking a little bit on her right one and blowing where his spit is left siting on her skin and that warrants a spasm out of Iris, and she makes a sound that causes him to smile.

His hands open her by the knees a little bit more, so he can fit between them and he feels her resisting it, trying to close them, pressing him in the middle so he rises back, lining himself up against her, kissing her collarbones and her jaw line and —

“What the hell are you doing?” Iris asks, her voice sounding indignant.

Barry laughs in response as he presses a kiss on her cheek. He aimed the lips but she turns her head out of the way. He liked the cheeks too anyway.

“Barry Allen, this isn’t funny,” she tells him, but her hips roll against his, and well, all signs point to the fact that she does enjoy being teased.

“I want a kiss,” he tells her.

“You go back finish what you’ve started then you’ll get a kiss,” she negotiates.

“But I want a kiss now,” he pouts.

Iris rolls her eyes at him, but her hips buckle to find his and Barry laughs at the movement that gives her away.

But Iris ends up conceding, pulling his bottom lip between hers, slipping the tip of her tongue to find his, but then, before he has time to fully enjoy it, she pushes him away forcefully and says seriously;

“Now you finish what you’ve started because if I have to finish it myself I promise you, I can tease too and then we’ll see how much you enjoy that.”

Barry laughs again at her threat, sounds like a pretty good deal if he’s being completely honest, but his hands, cupping her boobs let go of it in favour of opening her legs again and his lips hadn’t even found her skin again before she lets out a gasp, satisfied, satisfyingly.


	4. Proof of the crime

There were several benefits of working with one’s wife, Barry found; the first one being that he didn’t have to dwell too much on how insane it was to actually miss her when he had seen her less than two hours ago; that was because (even though she wouldn’t day, she was detective Iris West after all, she had a reputation of bad ass to maintain) she missed him too, because she was close enough to reach for.

She steps into his lab, wearing her black palazzo pants and a cream shirt that was a little bit see-through against all the natural light that flooded the place, her hair up in a bun, like she would always wear while working, to keep it out of the way, and her red lipstick on.

Barry liked the lipstick, and the way it drew on the perfect shape of her lips, making it more obvious, how it made it the first feature he would see while looking at her, how it had a hypnotic effect when the lips moved while she spoke.

He also hated the lipstick, how her lips tasted weird while she was wearing it and how it would undoubtedly make a mess if he were to kiss her.

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft in a way it would never be unless they were alone, and her hands reach for him, resting on his shoulders, keeping him close, close enough for him to feel nothing but her, her perfume, and her skin, warm and soft, her breathing close to his.

“Can you escape for a little bit? I wanted to go grab lunch,” she says and Barry smiles.

“Yeah,” he tells her, because he would always tell her yes, would never matter much what it was that she was asking.

Iris smiles back and presses her lips against his cheek and then against his lip, pulling away before it could actually turn into something, and takes his hand on hers, pulling him with her, saying _let’s go then._

It’s only a bit later, when they are already siting on the restaurant and Floyd tells him that that lipstick is not Barry’s colour, that Barry realises he never smudged the proof of their crime away.


	5. Bargaining

“5 more minutes?” Barry begged. He knew exactly what he was doing as well, kissing behind her ear like that.

“Barry,” she complained, dragging the word.

“All right, 10 minutes then,” he said, grinning against her skin, and Iris would like to stay, hell, forget 10 minutes, she wanted another day or two of doing nothing but this, but;

“I’m interviewing the guy from the real-estate business thing in an hour,” she pushing away from him and getting out of the bed and heading to the bathroom without looking back, or she _would_ spend the next two days like this.

When she came out of her shower he was still sulking in bed, his eyes weighting on her as she traveled around their room, getting dressed, putting on her make up, and Iris figured Barry was actually mad since he didn’t spoke a word, no jokes about her face while applying the mascara, or even a comment on her white lacy bra, and he loved that bra.

So when Iris was ready — apart from her lipstick — she leaned into him, trying to part his lips to fit hers between his, and Barry resisted, until she licked him open, and when she pulled away Barry lips were back pouting angrily as he informed her;

“You know, I was gonna eat you next, but I guess you are not interested in that.”

Iris laughed at his attempt of bargaining her stay, cradling his face on her hands and kissing his pout away;

“Thank you for the breakfast in bed,” she said.

“I’m not sure you are thankful,” he argued, but he was smiling, and his hands were trying to press her closer.

“You know,” she said, slipping on his lap, which automatically pushed her tight skirt up, “if you were to speed me to CCPN I could stay for another 5 minutes.”

“You were supposed to stay all morning,” Barry argued, “Saturday mornings are supposed to be mine.”

“Ok, I guess I’m leaving then.” Iris shrugged but before she could process anything else he was hovering over her, hands under her skirt, and he was so making her late.  


	6. We're all righ

Barry hurried into CCPN, disregarding someone trying to stop him at the door. He even considered using his speed into the building as well but then he would have to deal with the repercussions of that, he would have to leave and enter again so to stay by her side.

His heart beat against his chest in a hurry, as if it were trying to escape his body and reach Iris before the rest of him.

She had Linda and _Scott_ by her side; he held a half empty glass of water while Linda had a comforting hand on Iris’s shoulder, who cried copiously, saying something he couldn’t hear, and as soon as Iris spotted him she got up her chair to meet him halfway.

“Are you all right?” he asked, reaching for her, he needed to make sure she was real, that she was standing there, unscathed, unharmed.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she nodded, patting on his arms; “I thought you were dead, I kept seeing you dead,” she cried, pulling him down, so he would rest his forehead on hers;

There was no way of describing the panic of stepping into the precinct and hearing that the units were being called to CCPN, no way of explaining the pain in looking at Singh for comfort and getting a _something happened to Iris_ instead.

“I’m ok, Iris, I’m fine, it was just Mirror Master, see? I’m good,” he guaranteed her, kissing her tears away, on her cheeks, then on her lips. Though if he were to be honest he would have to confess that the salty kisses were more to reassure himself that no one had actually taken her, that she was all right, there, under his fingers and his lips.

“I’m fine,” he said again as she clung closer, pressing a kiss on his eyelid, “we’re all right.”


	7. Worn out

“What are you doing?” Iris heard Barry asking, his voice full of slumber and as Iris turned to face him she witnessed him rubbing his eyes, slowly.

“I was writing,” she told him, leaning against the kitchen counter and enjoying the view; her boyfriend in only a pair of boxers, hanging very low on his hips.

“I fell asleep,” he pointed out.

“Yep,” Iris confirmed with a smile.

“You’ve worn me out,” he said traveling his hands to the nape of his neck and Iris bit her bottom lip to keep her self-satisfied smile in check.

“I’ve just finished my article,” she informed him, hoping that would get him where she wanted.

“Was I asleep for that long?” he asked, checking the time glowing in the microwave display, taking slow steps towards her.

“I was just feeling inspired,” she told him, allowing him to nick her glass of water, downing that in one go.

He placed the used glass on the sink and pressed Iris against the counter pulling her upper lip between his and Iris let her hands wander to his hair, tugging on it, on the back, where it was longer than usual — he was due a haircut, but she liked having enough hair to pull so she wasn’t the one pointing that out.

Barry moved to nuzzled into her neck, peppering kisses along her collarbones, pulling the t-shirt she had on, down her shoulder, pressing his lips against her skin, slipping his hands under the thin fabric to trace her nipples with the pads of his finger, carefully, lazily.

Iris slid her hands down his bare back and under his underwear and giggle as he asked;

“Come back to bed.”


End file.
